


Moving On

by LCailan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Moving On, Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCailan/pseuds/LCailan
Summary: Years after Hogwarts, Hermione is single for the first time after she catches Ron being unfaithful.  Can Draco Malfoy show her that time changes things and that people change too?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SecretAdmirerFicExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SecretAdmirerFicExchange) collection. 



> Written for the Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange hosted by the Dramione Fanfiction Forum on Facebook. The exchange was simple – you submitted a prompt for a story and claimed someone else’s prompt. Mine was a story inspired by the son ‘Ex to See’ by Sam Hunt. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> He walks in, it all makes sense. Suddenly you're climbing over next to me...you don't want me, you just want your ex to see (based on the song Ex To See by Sam Hunt).

**Moving On**

*******

She watched as a large splotch of black ink fell on her parchment, her brown eyes following it as it spread along the surface. But her mind was elsewhere – lost in disappointing and regretful longing to erase most of her existence.

It had always been a waste. The sort of waste that you looked back on and shook your head, wondering what you were thinking. You would regret every month, week, day, hour – bloody hell – minute – you had spent together. 

_Such a bloody shame._

Such a shame, a one-sided love that ended up making one burn with humiliation at even the thought of being so devoted to a classless, selfish, daft prat.  


Hermione Granger had told herself a thousand times that most girls – at one time or another – fell prey to such stupidity. Unfortunately, her own stupidity, blindness and utter, misplaced devotion for someone who hardly deserved her had lasted years.  


Gods, but she had loved him! She had loved Ronald Bilius Weasley for as long as she could remember, really. At first, it had been a girlish crush but over their years in school had grown into something deeper – something that had made her desire him more than she had desired anything.  


What had it been about him? For fuck’s sake, _what?_  


It wasn’t as if he had been particularly smart; in fact Hermione had made excuses as to why she was with him in that department. She was brilliant and he was decidedly daft and she had simply told anyone who asked that love was more than just brains.  


He was irresponsible and quite immature: always behind on his schoolwork as a boy and now as an adult, always running late to work. He was useless as a romantic and quite irritating when she was trying to work. He was still a boy even though they had all grown up.  


_And who the piss names their son Ronald BILIUS? What sort of shite is that?!_  


Yet, despite all the unfavorable traits he possessed, she had loved him endlessly – scribbled his stupid name on her parchments in school and then allowed him to move into her flat after they had moved on from Hogwarts, letting him into her mind, heart and everything in between. She had cooked his meals, mended his trousers (with magic, of course but _still_ -)  


_I would have been the fucking Molly Weasley to his Arthur!_  


Yes, she had hoped for marriage, children…for all those things a young witch hoped for but was sometimes afraid to voice. If only Hermione had known that Ron Bilius was exactly the sort of bloke that no girl deserved!  


Hermione’s eyes burned from withholding angry tears, her face hot from humiliation.  


Of course, all her endless, pointless devotion to Ron had come to a stop the night she had caught him fucking the cherubic-faced waitress that had served him his favorite nosh at the local, trendy pub.  


Hermione’s fingers ran across the drying ink, smearing it along the parchment and staining her hands. She did not care; her mind was furiously focused on the past, her ink-stained fingers trembling.  


Ron and the pretty little waitress _whore._  


She had discovered much to her horror and devastation that food was clearly _not_ the only thing that Ron had been eating – and for Merlin knew how long!  


Hermione had come home early from a meeting with the American Ministry – a long week away from Ron – and a stressful week of meetings and negotiations on educational regulations. Stress had always caused her to miss him more and so she had hurried to get home to their flat, Flooing as quickly as she could.  


She had known what was going on the moment her feet touched the ground.  


The sounds coming from the bedroom were loud enough to drown out the Floo – and to make certain Hermione knew what sort of activities were in progress. But she had hoped – _Gods_ – she had prayed-  


Just porn – she had hoped. Just some silly new spell he was working on. Or maybe – maybe a new exercise!  


Anything but sex.  


Unfortunately, sex it had been. And not only sex but the raunchy sort, with hair pulling, grunting and the sound of Ron’s balls smacking against moistened flesh.  


She had walked into the room, frozen in shock at the sight that had met her eyes – knowing she should have looked away but at the same time lacking the ability to do so. His tiny, useless dick was pumping in an out of someone who was obviously NOT Hermione, his stubby, untalented fingers pulling at her curly, blond hair while others were pulling on nipples.  


The room reeked of…  


They had been going at it for a long time, Hermione reminded herself now, sitting back against the back of her office chair, pushing away her ink and parchment and wiping her dirty hands on the front of her skirt, not caring that she might have ruined it.  


She recalled how suddenly the shock had abated and she had turned to flee from the room but not before sending a bookend flying towards Ron, hearing it shatter against the wall above what had been their bed and wishing it had been his head.  


But the snapshot of the cherubic whore looking slightly chastised and the sound of Ron’s voice pleading –  


_Hermione, love, it’s not what it looks like-_  


It hadn’t mattered to her then and it didn’t now. She had known it was over.  


Working quickly, Hermione stood, grabbing her long traveling cloak. She was sick and tired of work; she wanted to go somewhere, to have a drink and to try and not think of Ron. And she knew just the place.

****

************

The jukebox in the corner of the pub was blaring tinny, sleepy-voiced tunes. By the worn, wooden bar a group of Muggle men sat talking about village rumors and filling the air with the scent of sweet, fragrant cigar smoke.  


Hermione sat beyond the bar, in a cramped, shadowy corner nearest the ancient jukebox. She sipped on icy-cold gin and hummed along to the Patsy Cline song that was playing. Patsy Cline was one of those Muggle things that the wizarding world would never understand. She had grown up listening to Johnny Cash, Simon and Garfunkel and Connie Francis but Patsy Cline...reminded Hermione of her mother.  


The magical world could keep their Weird Sisters…Hermione was supremely content clinging to old, Muggle songs that always filled her with a sense of comfort.  


She loved _The Hanged Man_. It was a worn-down, tiny establishment as decrepit as it was popular for the villagers of Little Hangleton. Hermione had discovered it during her research project while she had been at University. She had been studying the Gaunt family and had spent many hours at the pub, reading and eating onion soup with crusty bread. She had often brought Ron there who reminded her how _boring_ it was, how _dirty_ it seemed, how _awful_ it smelled – every fucking chance he got. He had reminded Hermione how Little Hangleton gave him the creeps, that no one would ever forget what had happened there, how cursed the village was.  


Hermione had happily ignored Ron’s protests. She didn’t care much for the _Hog’s Head_ or London’s prissy coffee shops with their frothy confections with whipped cream and sprinkles.  


_Piss on that. Give me a good gin or whiskey when I need it._  


But now, recollections of how miserable _The Hanged Man_ had made Ron brought a smile of satisfaction to her lips. She took another swallow of gin.  


She loved the pub even more.  


Where others saw a run-down, worn out bar, Hermione saw lovingly cared for wooden tops and slightly chipped glasses. Where other heard unclear, unknown music, Hermione heard the comforting sounds of Patsy and Johnny. And where others turned up their noses at what they considered “poor selection” of drinks, Hermione gloried in a good glass of gin or whiskey.  


The single waitress, a tiny, smiling woman named Millie, hurried over to offer a refill which Hermione politely refused.  


“Do you have soup?” she asked instead.  


“I think I can come up with something,” the older woman replied. “Give me a tic.”  


“It’s not busy today,” Hermione found herself saying.  


“It’s a dying village, love. No one wants to live with the memory of what happened in that Riddle house. Even your kind don’t come around as much.”  


It was true, Hermione knew. The Ministry was working to preserve the old Riddle House as a historical building and the generation of witches and wizards who had any connection to Cedric Diggory or the events that happened during his time at Hogwarts had gone on with their lives. That left Little Hangleton small and empty, filled with aging Muggles and the ghosts of bad memories.  


Hermione felt both sad and happy about that. There was just something she loved about _The Hanged Man_ …and Little Hangleton. And she didn’t want her little secret to be known by too many people.  


_I should move here. Who gives a toss where I live and I can always Floo to work…_  


“Besides, the holiday weekend is coming up. Certainly no one wants to be bringing their Valentine here,” Millie said with a wink.  


“Well, you know I haven’t a Valentine,” replied Hermione with a sigh.  


She knew what was coming; Ginny said it, Luna said it – everyone did.  


“You ought to. It’s been over a year. Nothing wrong with dating, you know.”  


That’s why Hermione had been thinking of nothing but Ronald Bilius.  


Once again she wondered why the _piss_ would anyone call their child Bilius??  


It had not escaped Hermione that over a year had passed and her life had been nothing like what she had imagined it would be. And this Valentine’s day she would be alone, here – at _The Hanged Man._  


“I’m not ready to date. Just the soup, if you please.”  


After Millie had gone, Hermione’s gin was slightly less pleasant, the air much stuffier and the lighting rather depressing. The music had stopped.  


She sighed watching the remaining ice cubes melt into the alcohol, her mind lost and the noise around her melting like the ice cubes into a rushing cacophony of nothingness.  


Until the sultry voice of Patsy Cline broke through and Hermione found herself looking up towards the old jukebox wondering who had such good taste in music.  


He wore a white fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled arms and though he was turned from her, Hermione noted a head of tousled blond hair that seemed almost silvery in the smoky dimness. As her eyes traveled down his body she noted a pair of well-tailored trousers that clung to him in the most deliciously advantageous way.  


_Legs for days_ , she mused dreamily. And the nicest ass she had ever seen on a man.  


_Sweet Fanny Adams._  


It took everything in her to tear her eyes away only to find that Millie had returned, carrying a tray of steaming onion soup, crusty bread and wearing a mischievous grin.  


“Well, bully for him! That’s the nicest arse I’ve ever seen on a bloke.”  


Hermione opened her mouth, heat rising along her neck making her feel dizzy and making Millie chuckle.  


“And I believe that the way you’ve been watching him the last few minutes constitutes harassment in Little Hangleton,” she added, her eyes twinkling.  


Hermione was blushing furiously now.  


“Nothing wrong with looking, Hermione! He’s got nice arms too,” Millie said with appreciation.  


The silver-haired stranger shifted from one foot to the other, still oblivious to the women staring at him and the curly-haired witch took a huge breath.  


“It’s hard to focus on food or my gin when…when…”  


She faded off, unable to explain the overwhelming physical pull she had towards the man at the jukebox. Millie gave Hermione a knowing smile as she set the tray of food down and leaned close.  


“He’s here alone, you know. Never seen him before but I’d say you haven’t got much to lose. God bless men in tight trousers.”  


Hermione’s mouth moved as she furiously thought of something intelligent to say that didn’t have anything to do with how damn bothered she was feeling right then. She watched as Millie hurried off to greet a new customer and quickly picked up her gin and took a sip. She missed her mouth by a fraction, cursed under her breath and grabbed at a napkin nearby, successfully managing to knock her soup spoon to the ground.  


“Bugger!” she muttered ducking under the table to retrieve it.  


When she sat up she found herself staring up at the object of her lustful thoughts and he was offering her a brilliant smile.  


Hermione felt a shock rush through her both from the physical reaction he drew from her and from the fact that he wasn’t a stranger at all. She _knew_ him.  


“Granger, so it _is_ you!” he drawled slowly.  


Hermione was still at a loss for words, blinking stupidly as she stared up at Draco Malfoy.  


What had happened to the tall, skinny, insufferable, pointy-nosed, decidedly unattractive boy she had known in school? And had she really entertained thoughts about how _sexy_ he was?  


_Merlin’s beard, but he is! When did that happen?_  


She watched with fascination as Draco helped himself to the extra wooden chair at her table and straddled himself on it in a way that made Hermione’s mouth go dry.  


“Still nothing to say, eh Granger? What happened to the annoying, know-it-all Gryffindor we all knew and loved?”  


Hermione wasn’t able to gauge whether Draco was mocking her or trying to flirt with her; it seemed like both. And she found herself wanting him to flirt with her. How things had changed! She grew annoyed and found her voice.  


“Why would I even give you the time of day, Malfoy?” she tossed back, picking up her glass to sip from it. The gin had warmed her significantly although Hermione knew that the alcohol was not the only thing that was making her warm.  


“Ah, after all these years I would have thought someone as brilliant as you would have come up with a few new lines.”  


“What are you doing here, Malfoy? I can’t imagine someone of your…breeding would be caught dead at a Muggle pub,” she quipped sarcastically.  


Interestingly enough it made Draco laugh; Hermione found that just like everything else about him, his laugh was sexy.  


“You do realize it’s been years since we’ve seen one another, yes? And I’m not that little boy I was in school. The world changes, Granger. I imagine people do too.”  


She felt embarrassed at his words, as if she were in the wrong. Admittedly she had not thought about Malfoy in years; she had focused on her own life, University, Ron and her close circle of friends. What happened to any of the Slytherins hadn’t been of interest to her.  


Until now.  


Now she found herself wondering where Draco had been all these years. And she had to admit that he was right; the world was different now and people did change. Sighing she relented and sat back against her chair. The jukebox had fallen quiet now and the only sound was the jolly din from the other pub patrons.  


“Fine,” she said looking at him. “Let’s…let’s just start all over, shall we?”  


She offered him her hand and a careful smile.  


“My name is Hermione Granger. And you are?”  


A flicker of surprise passed across his lips turned up into a warm smile as he took her hand in his. Hermione felt a sudden jolt, as if she had been electrified.  


“I’m Draco Malfoy.”  


As they shook hands, Hermione tried to settle the twisting in her belly.  


“So…Mal-Draco, what brings you to Little Hangleton? Very few witches and wizards come around here anymore.”  


“I could ask you the same thing, Hermione.”  


For the first time all day, Hermione had forgotten Ron. Draco’s smile was distracting, the warmth of him so close to her and the scent of his cologne making her head spin crazily. And she happened to love the sound of her name falling from his lips.  


“I…I discovered this place when I was…working on research for the Ministry.” She found herself replying. “Since…well, since the war, the Ministry has been trying to gather as much information about Voldemort and where he came from as possible, so I wrote a research paper and an article for the Prophet about the Riddle family…”  


Hermione found herself blushing under Draco’s intense gaze and her words died down.  


_I’ve always been a know-it-all, that’s for sure._  


Draco offered her a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat.  


“I’ve read your research. Came out last year, did it? Quite good.”  


Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.  


“Y-you did?”  


“In fact, I used it as a reference. I’ve been doing some research myself, on Salazar Slytherin. Funnily enough, I’m working on a book about him. Something I’m hoping that can be used at Hogwarts for History of Magic.”  
Hermione forgot to be shocked, wondering who this man was and what he had done with the Draco she remembered.  


“You’re writing a book? That’s brilliant! I can’t wait to read-”  


Draco laughed.  


“I’m afraid it’ll be a bit dull. But then again, you’re the one that enjoyed reading _Hogwarts, A History_ , yeah?”  


Hermione leaned across the table, engrossed in their conversation.  


“I loved it! What made you write a book? What are you doing now? Are you a writer?”  


The questions fell from her lips freely and Hermione found herself forgetting that this was Draco Malfoy whom she had hated most of her girlhood.  


“I’m getting there, I suppose. Actually, I’m an assistant professor at Hogwarts.”  


“Professor?”  


“Well, it’s been known for quite a while that old Binns is on the way out. I’m hoping to take over.”  


Hermione sat back now, impressed.  


“That’s…well, I hope that works out for you,” she said honestly. Draco offered her a warm smile which she found herself returning. They sat like that for a few moments until she blushed and looked away.  


“Say, Granger, are you still with Weasley?”  


Hermione’s face turned down in a scowl.  


“No, thank Merlin I woke up and left that brainless git!” she spat angrily. “I caught him cheating on me and…”  


She let out a sigh.  


“But anyway, no. Are you…are you with anyone? I always thought that old wizarding families prided themselves in marrying well and all that.”  


Hermione wasn’t quite able to hide her disdain. Draco shrugged.  


“Divorced. That’s what you get for priding yourself for marrying well,” he replied dryly. “I’m older and wiser now; I’ve stopped listening to my father.”  


Hermione bit her lip, holding back any diatribe about Lucius Malfoy. After all, they had turned over a new leaf, hadn’t they? Years later, but still…  


“Well, one thing I’ve learned in the past year is that you live and learn. I’m sorry about your divorce.”  


Draco’s eyes warmed at her sincerity.  


“Listen, I know this might sound a bit mental but would you have dinner with me?”  


Hermione felt like she were flying. Who cared about Ron Weasley anyway? Who cared about anything? She had a date! And…she knew just the place to go, too.

 

****************

The pub was busy as it always seemed to be on weeknights. Draco followed Hermione through the wizarding throng and ducked as glasses and cups floated through the air to the patrons sitting around at the shiny, stainless tabletops.  


The pub served a number of fancy looking drinks covered with whipped cream and sometimes candy sprinkles. All of it was sweet – and Ron had always liked sweet. This was his favorite place for coffee, dinner and drinks.  


And apparently had also been his favorite place to pick up a girl other than Hermione.  


_I hate this place!_  


Guiltily she glanced at Draco as they were seated in one of the plush, maroon booths in the corner. The look on his face mirrored what she was feeling and it made her feel worse.  


“Do you like this place?” he asked skeptically glancing down at the very limited menu. “What do you like best? The pretentious, over-sweet drinks or the overpriced meals?”  


Hermione’s face was flaming now even as she caught the hint of a smirk playing along Draco’s sensuous mouth.  


“Fine, we can go elsewhere. This was a stupid idea-”  


“What was a stupid idea? Dinner with me or this place?” countered Draco, his eyes narrowing a bit as they searched her face.  


Hermione sighed, staring down at the shiny table, frustrated with herself.  


“Everything,” she snapped. “The truth is…the truth is that I brought you here because this is Ron’s favorite pub. I hate this place, I hate the fact that he met someone else here and that he had to cheat on me for me to wake up and see that I could have done so much better! And I wasted years of my life on him!”  


Her eyes watered.  


“And the first time another man – a _different_ man – asks me to dinner, where do I bring him? To some shit pub in hopes that maybe…maybe Ron will see that I’ve moved on!”  


She stood up to gather her things, her hands shaking.  


“I’m sorry, Draco. I should never have come out with you. I really…I wanted to… but maybe I’m not ready.”  


She expected that he would be sneering at her when she looked up to meet his gray eyes; she thought he would mock her like he had in their youth. But she was surprised to find that he was watching her with sympathy.  


“It’s rough, Hermione. Moving on, you know. I’m glad we ran into one another anyway. It’s been a pleasure-”  


He paused as his eyes moved from Hermione’s face to the entrance and the disappointment on his face turned to mirth.  


“Well, if it isn’t the object of your affliction,” Draco teased, nodding towards the door where Ron had just entered. “And he’s quite the vision too! I can see why you can’t just move on.”  


Hermione had turned bright pink. She felt stupider than she could remember, dragging another man to a pub just to make her ex jealous! It wasn’t fair to Draco.  


“Look, let’s just get out of here. Forget I brought you here; in fact, if you’d like, you can forget we ever ran into each other.”  


Draco had stood along with Hermione and easily took her coat from her, helping her with it in the most gentlemanly way.  


“And forget all of this? Never. I just love wading in the proverbial pot of tension, Granger.”  


He took her hand, firmly squeezing it.  


“Come, let’s greet him, shall we?”  


Hermione allowed herself to be pulled towards the entrance of the pub and before she knew it, Ron had noticed her holding hands with Draco. The look on his face was worth a thousand words.  


_And I hope you choke on all of them, you piss ant!_  


Seeing him after so long rendered Hermione speechless from a flurry of emotion. But Draco had not missed a beat as he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. She fit against the warmth of his body as perfectly as a puzzle piece.  


“Fancy running into you, Weasley!” exclaimed the tall blond man.  


Ron’s face had turned so red that his freckles had disappeared.  


“Malfoy, what are you doing with-”  


Hermione gave Draco a knowing glance, her eyes lingering on him a fraction longer than necessary.  


“Maybe we should get out of here, love. The company seems to have killed my appetite.”  


Draco grinned at her.  


“So true,” he agreed.  


Ron made a face of disgust.  


“Well, at least I know how far you’ve fallen since we split,” he muttered with derision. “Normally people move up when they move on.”  


Draco smirked.  


“I rather think you’re jealous, Weasley.” He said smoothly. “And to think! If you had kept that tiny prick in your pants she wouldn’t ever have left you!”  


Ron’s face had turned an ashen color and Hermione hid her satisfied smirk. Yes, she had brought Draco here with the intent to show Ron that she could move on. But never in her wildest imaginings had she thought it would work out this well.  


“Well, at least I know you haven’t changed, Malfoy. You’ll never be able to mind your business.”  


“Be that as it may,” replied Draco. “At least I will live with a clear conscience, knowing I was man enough to never cheat on my partner. You messed up Weasley and you’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing what a prick you are. Thank you, by the way. Your stupidity was my fortuitousness.”  


He pulled gently on Hermione’s hand.  


“Let’s get out of here,” he said and shoved past a flabbergasted Ron, through the crowd and out into the cold darkness.

**********

There was only silence for a few moments before Hermione spoke awkwardly.  


“You-you didn’t have to…in there,” she muttered looking at the ground, too many emotions overwhelming her.  


“You mean, tell Weasley off? It was nothing. Irritating Weasley is a favorite pastime,” he said with a small chuckle.  


Hermione did not laugh choosing her words carefully.  


“I didn’t mean to...”  


She looked up at him.  


“I’m sorry I put you in a bad place, Draco. What I did was stupid and you didn’t deserve it. Thank you for doing what you did…in there.”  


Her cheeks were flushed both from her embarrassment and the fact that Draco had reached up to push a wayward curl behind her ear. There was a long hesitation between them before he spoke.  


“Like I said, it was nothing.”  


He sighed.

“Look, I’ve got to get back. I promised Longbottom I’d meet with him about some details with my book. He’s on the committee at Hogwarts for educational improvement and I really want to get that ball rolling.”  


Hermione nodded quickly.

“Of course, I won’t keep you. I just…thank you…again.”  


He nodded and offered a smile before pulling his traveling cloak tighter around his body. Hermione wanted to ask him to not go. She wanted to tell him that she really wanted to get over Ron because she WAS ready to date – and not just any bloke-  


_I won’t do it. I won’t be that selfish. He’s been through a lot, just like I have. There’s no point in dragging him into a messy situation._  


Still, her heart ached with longing.  


“Hermione, if you’re ever near Hogwarts, I’d love to take you to dinner. There, I said it. You might not be ready but if ever…I mean, there’s always time to start over.”  


_I won’t do it. I won’t._  


When she didn’t answer, Draco nodded with disappointment and then gave her a half-smile.  


“So, you take care of yourself,” he said slowly, and turned to Apparate away.  


“Draco!”  


He stopped and turned. Hermione felt like she was floating on air.  


“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day? Would you…would you join me for drinks? For real this time. Somewhere…new. Somewhere that no one can bother us.”  


A smile broke out on his face as he closed the distance between them and took her small hands in his.  


“I’d love to,” he agreed instantly.  


She was beaming up at him and Draco leaned down to press his mouth against hers in a kiss that seemed to promise so much. He was smirking when they pulled apart.  


“I’d love to know more about your conversation with Millie the other day. God bless men in tight trousers, eh?”  


She giggled, forgetting to be embarrassed at being overheard.  


“You’ve got to know you’re…attractive, Draco.”  


His smile turned sultrier.  


“Perhaps,” he agreed his forehead touching hers gently. “But I’d still like to hear it from you.”  


He kissed her again.  


“So…what do I get for my heroic actions this evening?”  


Hermione leaned up even closer, kissing the edge of his mouth.  


“I’m sure you’ll think of something, won’t you? And I’ll be much obliged.”  


Their laughter filled the night air.

****

~Fin~


End file.
